


Never Packed a Parachute to Lover’s Leap

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Series: Unconnected Phil Coulson Fics [19]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Phil Coulson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Feels, Joyful, Let’s all just pretend that tasing is no big deal okay?, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Omega Clint Barton, Rimming, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: Phil goes into an unexpected rut.Extremely unexpected considering Clint’s been under the mistaken impression that Phil has been a beta this whole time.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: Unconnected Phil Coulson Fics [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709944
Comments: 24
Kudos: 104
Collections: fandomtrees





	Never Packed a Parachute to Lover’s Leap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShippersList](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/gifts).



> I stg this was going to be under 2k. 🤦🏻♂️
> 
> Title from I Don’t Need Another Thrill by Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers. 
> 
> _Now I don't need another thrill  
>  Just hold my hand I can stand to stand still_
> 
> https://youtu.be/nEM4TGcAgiU  
> https://genius.com/Roger-clyne-i-dont-need-another-thrill-lyrics

Clint has never seen anyone eat a salad so aggressively before. It’s like it did something to personally offend Phil, like call his mother a dirty name or file an AR-26 without an attached AR-26B. 

“It’s already dead, you know.”

“What?” Coulson says, startled. 

Geez, he must really be in a mood if Clint could get the drop on him. 

Sure, he had literally dropped out of the vents but cool as a cucumber Phil rarely even raises an eyebrow at that these days.

He glares at Clint and then goes back to attack the bowl of lettuce and— Clint’s not sure. Something vegetably and good for you, knowing Coulson. 

“My door was locked for a reason.”

“And yet you didn’t lock the vent.”

“The vent doesn’t have a lock.”

“If you really didn’t want me to use it you’d install a lock.”

“Which you would just pick, making it a waste of resources. So now you can just go right back out the way you came in.”

“Why is your door locked, Phil?

“I’m on my lunch break, Specialist, and I didn’t want to be disturbed; especially not by you.”

Ouch. 

Well, that wasn’t very nice. 

And Phil’s always nice. 

Well, okay, not _always_ nice, but he’s always nice to _Clint_. 

Even when they first met and Clint put an arrow in his thigh.

Clint has been masking his dynamic all his life, but he never wished he was a beta more than when Phil Coulson came into his life. 

Phil only ever dates betas; so, as much as Clint flirts with him, part of Clint is relieved that Phil has never taken his flirtations seriously. 

Not that Phil would treat him differently if he knew, he treats everyone the same regardless of their dynamic, refusing to posture with the alphas or patronize the omegas. 

He’s a perfect beta in every way. 

No, he isn’t worried that Phil would start treating him differently if he outed himself; it’s Phil's polite, probably even regretful, rejection if he knew Clint was serious that Clint wouldn’t be able to survive. 

So he flirts with Phil the same way he flirts with everyone; he’s over the top ridiculous with it while making it clear he doesn’t date other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. 

Clint does date or, well, not date exactly but he has tried to bury his feelings in a string of hook ups, always betas or omegas, afraid that someday some alpha might trigger his suppressed heat, that he’ll end up begging for the Bite; fantasizing about Phil giving him something that Phil physically _can’t_ give him while sleeping with someone else. 

“Then why are you typing?” 

“Maybe I’m writing my memoirs.”

“I will give you all of my money right now if you let me read them. Even the stuff hiding in the Caymans.”

“You don’t have the clearance.”

“What if I begged?”

Coulson slams his hand down on his desk, “Damn it, Barton, can’t you see that I’m busy? What is it this time?”

Clint feels his expression shutter; he tries to tell himself it isn’t about him, that it’s not like Coulson even knows the way he feels, but part of him is still hurt. Sometimes he regrets all the suppressants he’s used over the years, weakening his scent. Phil may have a strong nose for a beta, but even the strongest alphas usually can’t smell him until they’re practically tasting him.

“Why’d you hand off the Addison op to Sitwell?” 

Phil’s nostrils flare and his lip curls, Clint has never seen him like this and it does something to Clint, sets his blood running as it calls to the omega in him and he can feel himself getting wet. 

_‘Fuck. Keep it together, dummy,’_ he tells himself.

“Something came up. I’m _trying_ to get the last of these reports done and then I’m going on leave.”

Coulson? On unscheduled leave? Mr. ‘Plan’s His Time Off Three Years in Advance’ taking a spontaneous vacation? 

Clint’s not buying it.

“Leave?” He leans against the desk next to Coulson, “To where?”

Instead of answering him Phil growls— who knew Phil Coulson even knew _how_ to growl? “ _Get._ _Out_.”

Ouch again. 

“Going somewhere fun?”

“ _Now_.”

“Tell me where you’re going and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Barton, if you don’t get out of here in the next three seconds I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

“What is up with you? You’re acting like an alpha in rut.”

Phil gives him a look he can’t interpret.

“I didn’t think betas—”

Phil growls again and then moves faster than Clint thought possible, knocking the keyboard, monitor and salad to the side and pinning Clint over the desk, holding him down with a firm hand on the back of his neck, Phil’s thumb pressing unerringly into the bonding gland on the side and Clint whimpers as he comes fully erect and his hole becomes loose and ready for his alpha; he can feel his slick start to soak into his underwear, but is immediately distracted by Phil’s voice in his ear, “I _am_ an alpha, you idiot,” and then his cock is pressing against Clint’s ass and he moves his thumb so that he can lick at Clint’s bonding gland and Clint feels Phil’s canines lengthen against his skin.

“Oh, fuck me, you’re an alpha,” Clint says agreeing with Phil’s assessment; he is an idiot. An idiot bent over the desk of the man he’s been obsessed with for the last year who seems like he’s two seconds away from fucking Clint right through said desk. 

Clint is 100% on board with this, and in a completely different tone begs, “Fuck me, Alpha?”

“If I fuck you,” Phil says says into Clint’s ear, his voice gravelly with lust, thrusting up against Clint’s ass, causing the edge of his desk to cut painfully, perfectly into Clint’s hips, “I’ll Bite you.”

Phil thrusts again and Clint half laughs as a cherry tomato rolls past him, “Oh, _fuck_. Yeah. Okay. Do it.”

God, Clint’s never been Bitten before. Most people experiment as teenagers, or at least have one or two serious relationships by the time they’re Clint’s age but Clint’s always avoided it; never one to trust anyone to get that close.

He can’t believe his first time is going to be spread out across Phil’s desk, but fuck if he isn’t ready for it.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Clint.”

“I do, fuck, I do, I swear. I want it. Bite me. Fuck me and Bite me and bond me and make me yours,” he spares a thought to wonder if Phil will go back to his reports when they’re locked, Clint in Phil’s lap as he types away and fuck, yes he wants to be naked for that.

He tries to stand up to take off his shirt but he’s slammed back down and he grunts with the shock of it. Phil grabs his wrists and slaps Clint’s hands down on the desk, “ _Stay_.”

Clint bites his lip with a whimper and does what he’s told. 

Mostly. 

He can’t help pushing his ass back into Phil; Clint wants him so much he can’t keep still.

Phil doesn’t seem to mind though, as he makes quick work of Clint’s jeans, barely getting them past the curve of Clint’s ass before dropping to his knees. Clint lifts his head and says, “What—,” and then Phil’s slapping his ass; he just does it once but he doesn’t hold back and Clint’s going to feel the sting of it for a while. 

“I said stay,” Clint’s legs are bound together by his jeans and he has no leverage; he isn’t going anywhere, not that he wants to. 

Phil spreads his cheeks and his breath ghosts over Clint’s hole, “Now be good,” and then _God,_ Phil’s licking away Clint’s precome with a throaty hum of approval and Clint’s not sure if it’s the feeling of Phil’s mouth on his skin or the feeling of pleasing his alpha that has his toes curling, he just knows he doesn’t want it to stop.

“Oh, fuck, Phil. Your _mouth_ ,” Clint says as Phil keeps his cheeks spread, lapping and sucking Clint’s hole until he’s not sure if he’s wetter from his own slick or Phil’s tongue, “Fuckfuckfuck, I can’t—,” suddenly it all stops and Phil is across the room, back against the office door, lips shiny and flushed, canine’s long, eyes dilated. 

“Wh…?” Clint doesn’t get more than the start of the question out before Phil looks at him with horror and then is gone, slamming the door behind him and leaving Clint in a panting, soaked mess across Phil’s desk.

Clint numbly pulls up his pants and gingerly sits in Phil’s chair. What was hot only seconds ago now leaves him feeling gross and unsettled. 

No. 

That’s not it. 

Clint stopped lying to himself a long time ago.

It’s not the state of his pants that’s making him nauseous. 

It’s the state of his heart.

~~~

Clint isn’t sure how long he sits in his misery, staring sightlessly at Phil’s slowly wilting salad, the tropical fish of Phil’s screen saver the only witness to his—

His what? His unbondablity to someone even when they’re deep in rut?

His foolishness in thinking the unattainable had suddenly come to within his reach?

His complete disregard of all the warning signs, sure he knew Phil as well as he knows himself?

His—

No. 

No, this is not how their story ends. 

~~~

He stands in front of the door to Phil's off campus apartment doing his best not to fidget. 

Should he have brought wine? 

Flowers maybe?

What says, “I want to tie myself to you every way possible?”

Part of him wishes he had just gone up the fire escape like he normally does but he knows nothing about this is normal. 

He knocks on the door and is a little shocked to see Phil in nothing but loose boxers; Clint knows that Phil is a bvd man, which means these are his _rut_ boxers, and they’re just plain pale blue cotton but they’re the sexiest things Clint’s ever seen, with Phil’s obviously erect cock tenting the front of them and Clint has to fight the instinct to drop to his knees and open his mouth. 

“Thank God, Jazz, I’m completely unpre—,” Phil stares at Clint with equal measures of longing and alarm before slamming the door and there’s a _thump_ sound as Phil’s body weight hits the door, as if he’s worried that Clint will try to force his way in, “Go away, Barton.”

“I— just let me in and we can talk.”

“If I let you in there won’t be any talking.”

“That also works for me.”

“You need to go.”

“C’mon Phil, let me help you through this? We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends help friends,” It seems like he might be weakening so Clint goes in for the kill, letting a bit of his own need into his voice, “Please, Alpha?”

There are three loud _whumps_ against the door, Phil’s head if Clint had to guess, and then Phil says, “I appreciate your concern, Clint, I do, but this is the sort of thing that needs to be discussed sober and I am very, very much not sober.”

Clint feels a wave of doubt, “Are you saying it’s just the rut? That you were only going to fuck me over your desk because I was convenient?”

He hears a very quiet, _“Fuck,”_ and presses his ear against the door, hearing Phil whisper, “ _I’m going to hell,”_ and what sounds like the sliding of a hand up and down on a slick cock, followed by a deep moan.

He hears a very quiet, _“Fuck,”_ and turns up the gain on his aids to hear Phil whisper, “ _I’m going to hell,”_ and what sounds like the sliding of a hand up and down on a slick cock, followed by a deep moan that he would have been able to pick it up without the boost.

“You’ve never been convenient.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“No, no!” Phil gives a shaky laugh, “I didn’t mean— it’s not. You’re not an _inconvenience_. God, I’m not— I can explain, just—,” there’s another quietly broken _“Fuck,”_ that Clint knows he’s not supposed to hear as the wet smacking noise speeds up, “Give me a couple days and we can talk about this,” Phil then whispers to himself, “ _Stop, stop, stop,_ ” then out loud, “This or anything else you want, I promise,” Phil inhales sharply followed by a soft moan. 

“You would help me, if I was in heat, wouldn’t you?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Phil whispers, “ _Oh fuck,_ **_Clint_** ,” but what he says is, “If we made arrangements in advance,” he gasps, “Then _yes_.”

“Fuck,” Clint says, his knees going weak. Phil sounds _wrecked_.

“Are you afraid you’ll regret it if you let me in?”

“I’m afraid _you’ll_ regret it.”

“I won’t, I swear I won’t, Alpha,” Phil moans as Clint continues, “Please, please let me take care of you?”

“I— no. No, I can’t— I can’t— Oh FUCK!” Phil shouts and then breaks off with a whimper and it sounds like he’s panting and Clint can smell Phil’s come through the door and he feels warmth pool low in his belly, “I can’t trust myself right now. Please? Clint just—,” he cuts off with a soft, “ _Fuck, not again_ ,” and Clint can tell he’s started jacking off again this time the sounds are twice as slick and Clint knows it’s because of Phil’s come, “Just let me get through this and we can talk when get my head back on straight.”

“I—,” Clint’s interrupted by the ding of the elevator at the end of the hall.

Agent Sitwell has a paper bag in one arm, so full it blocks his face, and is singing Taylor Swift off key, “—looking for has been here the whole time! If you can see I'm the one who understands you; been here all along so why can't y—ohh! Barton. What are _you_ doing here?”

Clint feels his heart drop.

Oh. 

Oh, of course.

Of course Phil would want a beta, a _friend_ , to help him through his rut. He had sounded practically despondent when he had told Clint that if Phil fucked him he would Bite him and he believes Phil when he says he would help Clint through a heat so it’s not that he doesn’t want to have sex with Clint, just that he doesn’t want to bond with him and, hell, Clint gets that, he wouldn’t want to get bonded to him either. 

“I… I’m sorry. I’ll go,” he says, trying to hide his pain, though from the look on Sitwell’s face he isn’t fooling anyone, “I’ll go.”

“ _Clint,_ ” Phil growls and there goes Clint’s fresh change of underwear as his slick practically gushes out of him.

The door swings open and Phil is lunging for him but suddenly Sitwell between them, body blocking Phil and using his free arm to push Clint away, “Go!”

“ _Omega!”_

Clint moans, his cock as hard as his hole is wet.

“Get inside, Phil!”

“ _Mine!_ ” He snarls, his canines fully extended, and Clint drops to his knees.

“ _Alpha_!”

“ _Idiots!”_ Sitwell shouts and forces Phil back, slamming the door between them, “Ow! God damn it Phil, if you bite me again I’m tasing your ass. Barton, if you don’t leave I will call security and let them tase you too.”

There’s another snarl, Sitwell swears again and there’s the sound of a taser going off.

Clint howls and bangs on the door with both fists and that’s the last he’s aware of until he comes to in the security office’s holding cell and he feels himself flush red with embarrassment.

They give him a pair of clean sweats, his jeans are soaked clear through with his slick but at least he isn’t dripping anymore, and offer to call him a ride but he tells them he’s fine and limps his way to his bike with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

~~~

Three days later Phil’s back at work and Clint ‘drops’ in on him again.

“Did you mean it?”

Phil doesn’t even look up from his typing, “Mean what?”

He hadn’t ignored Clint when he’d come in this morning but he hadn’t sought Clint out either, just treated him with the same professionalism he always has as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed, when _everything’s_ changed _._

“That you would be my heat partner?” 

Phil swallows and Clint’s heart does a little victory cheer at the tell; Phil isn’t nearly as unaffected as he wants to make it seem. He stops typing and gives Clint his undivided attention, “I thought you were on suppressants?”

“I was thinking about going off of them,” Phil’s rut hadn’t been enough to set off Clint’s heat but it had been a near thing. As it was he’s spent a lot of quality time with his knotting dildo the last couple of days.

At least the Addison opp had gone off without a hitch and without Sitwell outing him as an omega.

“You were…,” Phil’s confused expression clears, “You mean for me?”

“Is that so wrong?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

It hangs there, naked. Charged. 

“Okay. I’ll let HR know—“

“You can’t! Everyone will find out I’m an o— wait. How did you know?”

Phil smiles and taps his nose, “I’ve known since the night we met. Even over the ozone and petrichor. But you were so insistent that you were a beta, and I could smell the suppressants too—”

“You can smell all that?” Clint feels the edges of panic, and Phil stands and comes next to him as Clint asks, dread taking up residence under his ribs, “Can other alphas tell? Have I just been a big jok—”

“No,” Phil takes his shoulder and shakes it, “Stop that. As far as I know, no one else knows except now Jasper and he knows how to keep a secret. I’m just,” Phil looks away, a slight blush across his cheeks, “Very tuned in to how you smell.”

“Oh? Oh!” That’s… that’s Bite talk. _Bonding_ talk. It’s said that when an alpha bonds to you they become so sensitive to your scent that they can read your mood before you even know what you're feeling, “I— what do I smell like now?”

Phil gives him half a smile, “Anxious, mostly. Resolute. Low key turned on, but then you always do—”

“That’s all you.”

“Me?” Phil says softly.

“This,” Clint touches his bonding gland, “Practically throbs anytime I get near you.”

“Oh?” Phil says, reaching out, a question in his eyes; Clint nods his encouragement and when Phil strokes his fingers across it Clint closes his eyes and shivers. Phil replaces his fingers with his nose, and Phil’s the perfect height to tuck his head into the curve of Clint’s neck as Clint wraps his arms around him. 

Phil moans and his cock presses into Clint’s leg and Clint’s cock answers in return as his hole becomes wet, “Phil,” Clint whimpers, his voice is threaded with need.

Phil licks Clint’s neck and then scrapes his teeth over that sensitive knot of nerves. Clint begs, “Bite me?”

“No,” Phil breathes over Clint’s damp skin and Clint feels his stomach drop out, replaced by a deeper longing as Phil continues, “Not here, not in my office. When we bond it will be in my bed, surrounded by candlelight and rose petals, and only after I’ve tasted you head to toe, until you’re writhing beneath me so full of need and pleasure that you can’t remember your own name.”

“ _Clint who_?” Clint whispers. 

Phil chuckles warmly against Clint’s throat, “Nice try, Omega,” Clint moans and tilts his head to bare his neck further, “Oh, God, you smell so sweet.”

He nips at Clint’s neck and Clint can feel how Phil’s canines have lengthened. Phil kisses up to his chin, letting his teeth scrape across Clint’s stubbled jaw before taking Clint’s mouth in the most soul searing kiss of his life. 

At first it’s all soft lips caressing his and Clint’s afraid Phil will think him too aggressive if he’s his normal bold self and so he tries to passively accept Phil’s kiss like a good omega. Phil’s tongue swipes across Clint’s lower lip and Clint moans as he opens up for Phil; Phil growls possessively as he takes what’s offered, his tongue plunging into Clint’s mouth and stroking Clint’s, coaxing him into a dual, into a dance. 

Clint feels his control break, grabbing Phil’s ass and pulling Phil tight until he’s straddling Clint’s thigh, Clint moving his hip just so, loving the friction of Phil’s cock against his leg. He leaves one hand on Phil’s ass and brings the other one up until he’s able to thread his fingers through Phil’s hair and hold his head at the perfect angle for Clint to take command of the kiss, thrusting his tongue alongside Phil’s in the same rhythm of his leg against Phil’s cock, Clint’s own cock hot and needy against Phil’s stomach, his asshole wet and aching to be filled.

Phil kisses him back, tongue and hips meeting each of Clint’s thrusts with his own and when they finally break for air both of them are left dazed and panting. Clint presses his forehead down against Phil’s, “I don’t think I can wait until I go into heat. I don’t even know when it might happen.”

“How about I take you to dinner first?”

“You want to— really?”

“Yes, I want to. I want— God, Clint, I want _everything.”_

“It’s yours. I’m yours, Alpha.”

“ _Omega,”_ Phil moans and is kissing Clint again with a single minded thoroughness that has Clint’s toes curling.

~~~

Clint’s expecting La Comtesse Furieuse, where Phil takes all his first dates and where Clint wouldn’t be caught dead, but of course Phil knows him better than that. 

Josie’s is the diviest dive bar Clint has ever been in, and Clint knows his dive bars. The floor is covered in peanut shells, and not for ambiance; if the floor has been swept even once since the place opened Clint will eat his bow. He catches three health code violations before his eyes even have time to adjust to the hazy darkness, two of the bar’s three disreputable patrons are openly defying the Clean Indoor Air Act, though considering they look like they’d openly defy New York’s prohibition against, you know, _murder_ , smoking seems like small change. 

“Phil?” Clint asks, not sure if they’re in the right place or if maybe Phil has lost his mind, because while this absolutely looks like the kind of place where Clint would wake up in the dumpster out back, he’s surprised that Phil knows such a place exists, much less that he would step foot inside of one. 

“Trust me?” Is all Phil says.

“With my life,” which he might be doing. 

Oh, he’s sure that between the two of them they can handle anything Josie’s throws at them, it’s the impending food poisoning he’s worried about. 

At first Clint thinks Josie’s doesn’t believe in furniture but then he sees the pile of broken tables and chairs in the back part of the bar by the less than mint pool table, it looks like there’s been some sort of fight and they haven’t had time or inclination to replace them. 

Phil leads Clint up to the bar with a hand at the small of his back; he wonders at the picture they make, Phil suave and clean cut in his tailored suit, Clint three inches taller and many more than that wider in the jeans that fit him like a second skin, nearly threadbare across his thighs and a tight t-shirt more grey dreaming of the color purple than any real color except for a shadowed pattern where his quiver has protected it somewhat from the sun.

He feels his cheeks heat up as he realizes more than anything he looks like a rent omega, trading his body for a warm meal.

The bartender throws back a shot of something and comes over, grabbing a pot of coffee and pulling a stained and chipped mug out from under the counter; she sizes up Clint with a professional’s eye for trouble, then sets the mug down in front of Phil and starts pouring.

Not only does Phil know that a place like this exists, they know _him._

What is even happening?

“What about you?” She asks Clint in a voice hoarse from whisky, cigarettes, and good clean living.

“Uh. Same. Please.”

She snorts at the ‘please’ as she grabs another coffee stained mug and pours.

“Two of the usual, Josie,” Phil says, taking a sip of his coffee and humming. 

She spits on the floor and then heads to the back, Clint gets a terrifying glimpse of the kitchen and wonders if he’s in a fever dream. 

“So… come here often?”

Holy. Mother. Of. God. 

This is quite literally the best coffee Clint has ever had in his life. 

He actually misses Phil’s response, something about friends from law school and he definitely wants to hear more about Phil’s college days if he ended up in places like this but Clint can’t really hear him over the pure bliss that is the darkest, most well rounded, exquisite brew he’s ever had.

“After Foggy almost burned the place down, I spent three weeks as an unpaid bar back in exchange for her letting us come back,” Phil chuckles and takes another sip of coffee, “Worth every minute.”

“You… you worked here?”

“Well, ‘worked’ may be putting too fine a point on it.”

“I gotta say, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Someplace where the menu was in French without listing the prices and they won’t let you in the door without a jacket and tie.”

“I didn’t think you liked that sort of thing?”

“Oh, I would have hated it. This is _awesome.”_

Some unseen tension falls from Phil’s shoulders and he smiles like Clint just gave him a puppy, “Wait until you try the burger.”

~~~

Phil’s right about the food, but even better is hearing stories about Phil’s misspent youth and surprisingly wild college years. He opens up so much that Clint feels comfortable telling a couple stories of his own; not the ones he pulls out to entertain their coworkers but the real ones, the stories that _mean_ something. 

Phil drops a couple bills on the bar as Clint uses his final fry to swoop up the last of the ketchup on his plate.

“So, back to your place,” Clint says hopefully.

“If you’re still— hold on, you’ve got—,” Phil brushes his thumb across Clint’s lower lip and then sucks the bit of ketchup off his thumb; Clint groans and wraps Phil’s tie around his hand, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Before they can get too hot and heavy, Josie clears her throat, “Take it out back or I’ll hose you off.”

Clint looks at her, eyes kind of glazed and sees she’s aiming the soda gun at them.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Clint says and she huffs and rolls her eyes but lowers the gun.

Part of Clint is disappointed when Phil takes his hand and starts pulling him towards the front door. The thought of Phil taking Clint out to a filthy back alley and having his way with him is going to be fodder for more than a few fantasies in Clint’s very near future.

~~~

The front door’s barely closed before Phil is pushing Clint up against it and taking his mouth in a demanding kiss, a demand Clint succumbs to instantly. He could kiss Phil for a thousand years and never get used to it. 

Phil’s tie is gone and his shirt is half unbuttoned by the time he stills Clint’s hands, taking them and kissing each of his fingertips in turn, “Wait here for me?”

Clint licks his swollen lips; he would agree to anything for Phil— not just now, _always,_ but the thought of waiting one more second is devastating. He closes his eyes and nods with a whimper and feels Phil’s teeth nip at his fingertips, doing no favors for Clint’s self control and if he had been wet before he’s dripping now. 

Clint slips off his shoes and socks while he waits and is debating between unbuttoning his jeans or pulling his shirt off when he sees that Phil’s room has started to glow. 

Phil comes out with his jacket, shoes, and socks gone and his dress shirt hanging open loosely; he looks good enough to eat.

“No flower petals, I’m afraid,” he says as he draws Clint into his bedroom, lit up by a dozen candles of every shape and size.

“I don’t want flowers, I just want you.”

That gets him another soul searing kiss and a desperate, “ _Omega_ ,” Phil’s hands stroking up his back under his shirt and then starting to ruck it up the front as he splays his fingers across Clint’s abs, moaning into Clint’s mouth. Phil’s fingers move up to play with Clint’s nipples pinching and teasing, his cock firmly pressed against Clint’s thigh.

Clint kisses back with everything he has, his fingers curling around Phil’s belt and holding on for dear life, echoes of past lovers telling him he’s too much, that he takes when he should give, and so he lets Phil be the one to take and take and take until Phil breathlessly asks, “Touch me?”

Clint slides Phil’s shirt off his shoulders until he’s left in his sleeveless undershirt, throwing the dress shirt to the side, making sure it falls well short of any candles, and slips to his knees as he starts to unbuckle Phil’s belt.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I want to. Please? Please let me suck your cock? I’ll make it so good, Alpha, I promise.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Phil whispers, “This— this is supposed to be for you.”

“This is for me,” Clint says, dragging down Phil’s slacks and underwear, he inhales up the long line of Phil’s cock, delighted at the weight of it against his skin, “This _is_ for me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Phil sighs, “It’s all for you. Everything. Anything. I’m yours Clint. I think I’ve always been yours.”

“Oh, _Phil,_ ” Clint moans and gently licks away the pearl of precome beading at the tip of Phil’s cock, tonguing Phil’s slit before sealing his lips around the head and _sucking,_ Phil’s groan is nearly a growl and it tingles up Clint’s spine.

Phil tastes better than anyone Clint’s ever known, rich and bittersweet and Clint will never be able to get enough. He moans again as he takes Phil deeper, using his tongue to slick up Phil’s shaft, pulling back slowly to suck hard at the tip, worrying Phil’s slit with his tongue before sucking again as he slides back down twisting and swirling his tongue in an effort to taste every inch of Phil’s cock as much as possible. 

His fingers dig into the back of Phil’s thighs and Phil’s fingers are in Clint’s hair but instead of taking it in his fists and fucking Clint’s face like Clint halfway wishes Phil would he strokes his fingers through it with a gentle touch, brushing it away from his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s so good Clint; your mouth feels amazing on my cock. Even in my dreams it hasn’t been like this; you’re so much better than anything I’ve ever imagined.”

Clint sets up a steady rhythm, Phil’s praise falling around him like light rain on a warm summer evening, unexpected and soothing, precious in the way that extraordinary pleasures always are. Eventually the words lose focus and trail off into a smattering of “oh, yes,” and “ _please”_ and “perfect” and then just moans and growls.

Clint lets go with one hand to squeeze his fingers in a ring around the bundle of nerves at the base of Phil’s cock, he’s never actually been with an alpha before but he’s seen porn; it turns out the actors weren’t exaggerating as Phil seems to lose his mind, his fingers tightening in Clint’s hair to delicious pricks of pain as he holds Clint’s head in place and starts fucking him with a roar and Clint tightens his grip, unable to do more than hold on for dear life and make his mouth a tight warm hole for his alpha and then Phil’s coming down his throat with just the barest swelling of his knot as warning. 

Phil let’s go of Clint’s hair with a punched out, “ _oh_ ” followed by a sharp inhale as Clint sucks the last of his come from the tip of his cock.

Clint sits back and Phil starts to say, “I’m sor—”

“Good?” Clint interrupts, a smirk playing with the corner of his mouth as he takes Phil’s hands in his and stands.

“Yes! More than— that was incredible, Clint; but I shouldn’t have—”

“Then shush,” Clint says, resting a finger on Phil’s lower lip.

Phil starts to say something but instead closes his lips and nods is acquiescence, kissing Clint’s fingertip.

Encouraged, Clint drops his finger and moves in slowly for a kiss, asking Phil with his eyes if it’s okay; he’s known plenty of guys who wouldn’t kiss him after a blow job, but Phil’s not like that, not only kissing him, but licking into Clint’s mouth, chasing the taste of himself. He brings up a hand and cups the back of Clint’s neck and then strokes his thumb across Clint’s swollen bonding gland making Clint gasp.

“Too much?” Phil asks, hovering his thumb over it, the heat alone enough to make it throb.

Clint’s already keyed up from the kissing and the, if Clint does say so himself, spectacular blow job; he wonders if Phil will Bite him now if he begs for it, “More; please, _more.”_

“Not yet, remember what I promised you?”

“Candles and roses?” Clint tilts his head to the side, giving Phil greater access to his neck, “Pretty sure you’ve delivered.”

Phil draws his ever so slightly extended teeth across Clint’s gland making him shiver before taking Clint’s earlobe between them and biting gently, not at all the way Clint’s dying to be bitten but still good, so, so good, “I promised to taste you. _All_ of you.”

Clint gasps, “Until I can’t remember my name.”

“For now,” Phil kisses his way back to that oh so sweet spot and rumbles, “You’re wearing entirely too much clothing.”

Clint gasps, “You’re one to talk,” and starts tugging Phil’s undershirt up while leaning into his mouth. 

Phil ducks to let Clint take his shirt off while lifting Clint’s up and they get tangled around each other, both their shirts wrapped around their arms and their eyes catch one another in a perfect moment and they burst out laughing together. 

“Wait, let me, let me—,” Phil says while Clint says, “Just let me—,” and what had trickled down to giggles starts up again as they try to talk over one another, and then they’re kissing again in between laughs, somehow managing to untangle from each other until Phil pushes Clint back on to the bed in order to get at his jeans. 

Phil shucks his pants and underwear first and then looms naked over Clint, skin bathed in the golden candlelight and eyes bright with joy. His cock has started to rise again and Clint’s mouth waters at the remember feel and taste of it under his tongue, “Oh, God, fuck my mouth again? Just like this.”

Phil hisses in a breath, “Tempting,” he says, drawing his thumb across Clint’s lower lip and Clint chases it as Phil pulls it away, “Next time.”

Clint shivers, his hands trembling at Phil’s hips as he looks up at Phil with dark, vulnerable eyes, repeating tentatively, “Next time?”

“Or the next,” he leans down and kisses Clint sweetly, “Or the next,” then deeper, “Or the next,” Clint moaning at the drugging pull of Phil’s mouth, his words lost as he shows Clint over and over how much he wants him, how much he means it, that he’s Clint’s for as long as Clint will have him.

Endless amount of time later, or maybe only a moment, Phil pulls back and it’s his turn to sound unsure, “Can I— can I mark you?”

“ _Fuck_. Please?”

Phil dips down and scrapes his now fully extended canines across the meat of Clint’s shoulder, followed by a sucking kiss, giving him an alpha’s love bite, followed by more as he trails them down Clint’s bicep and he knows he has great arms— hell, they’re probably his best feature, but he’s never had anyone _worship_ him like this.

He moans as Phil gets to the tender spot of his inner elbow, gentle now but still leaving his mark as he reaches up to wrap his fingers around Clint’s throat until his thumb is resting against Clint’s bonding gland. Clint has to fight his eyes as they instinctively start to flutter shut when Phil presses down but he _needs_ to watch as Phil sets his nose against Clint’s wrist, right over his pulse point and Phil gets the full effect of the minor change in Clint’s scent, a precursor to how it will change when Phil Bites him.

Oh, God _, Phil’s_ going to Bite him.Phil whimpers against Clint’s wrist, chasing the scent with his tongue when it fades as Phil eases the pressure on Clint’s gland; slowly, like he wants to take his time, to draw this out until Clint can’t remember any alpha’s scent but Phil’s. 

As if there could ever be any other alpha for Clint.

Phil surges up and scrapes his teeth at the sensitive knot where his thumb had just been and Clint can’t fight his eyes any longer, letting them drift shut as he stops watching and just lets himself _feel,_ “Bite me?”

Phil chuckles darkly, “Oh, sweetheart, I’ve only gotten started,” and he begins marking Clint’s other shoulder.

Clint groans, “You're going to kill me.”

Phil’s low laughter rumbles again as his teeth nip at Clint’s shoulder, “I think we both know exactly how much you can handle,” he says before kissing between the marks, “And I’m going to give you _everything.”_

“Fuck, _Phil,”_ Clint tilts his neck, baring the side of his throat as he digs his fingers into the bed, holding on for dear life as Phil marks his way down this arm as well.

Then his teeth are at Clint’s collar bone and Clint sees sparks of light across his vision and Phil worries at it with his teeth, “ _Alpha.”_

Phil growls, low and deep and Clint melts into a ball of pure need as Phil stops just shy of breaking his skin, “Please, please, _please.”_

He scatters marks across Clint’s pecs, taking his time sucking and playing with Clint’s nipples until his hips are bucking up beneath Phil. 

Phil pulls back, his nails scratch up the inside of Clint’s thighs and then he unzips Clint’s jeans and _God_ Phil’s naked while Clint’s half dressed and he’s been at the other side of this, naked for a clothed lover and the feeling of power it gives him is intoxicating and he says, “Slow,” even knowing it will torment him every bit as much as it will Phil, maybe because it will. If Phil insists on taking his time Clint will give as good as he gets. 

Part of him wonders if the request— ‘ _order’_ his mind supplies and _fuck,_ what was he thinking, ordering his alpha around like that but Phil’s breath ghosts over Clint’s cock through his boxer briefs as Phil repeats, “Slow.”

Jesus, slow was a mistake he should have never challenged Phil because his fingers dig in at Clint’s waistband and it’s the slowest undressing of his life as his jeans and underwear are pulled down at a glacial pace and he’s whimpering and wiggling as Phil presses down on his hip bones, holding him in place with his clothes around his thighs.

“I’ve got you, Clint, I’m going to take care of you, gonna make you feel so _good,”_ he licks at the tip Clint’s cock, moaning as he starts with a wide flat tongue over the head and then uses the point of his tongue to massage Clint’s frenulum and it’s Clint’s turn to moan.

“Oh, God, _Phil,”_ Clint threads his fingers through Phil’s hair and starts to tighten them before realizing what he’s done and letting out a startled, “Oh!” 

He starts to apologize and let go but Phil stops him, looking up and placing his hands over Clint’s, “Hold on as tightly as you need to, my sweet omega.”

Clint gasps and tightens his fingers again as Phil wraps his lips around Clint’s cock and _sucks_ , humming in pleasure at the taste of his soon to be bondmate. He sinks his mouth down his omega’s cock as he sucks and hums and Clint is pretty sure Phil is going to drive him right out of his mind. 

Clint tries not to direct Phil’s head anywhere at first, simply holding on like his alpha said, but soon he’s pushing and pulling, moving Phil exactly the way he likes, as if he were another omega worshiping Clint’s cock instead of an alpha, but Phil isn’t just indulging Clint he’s _enjoying_ it, moaning encouragement as Clint directs him in giving Clint the maximum possible pleasure. 

He keeps feeling the occasional brush of Phil’s canines and Clint’s pleasure ratchets up even further; no, there’s no possibility of mistaking Phil for anything other than an alpha. 

All too soon, or maybe after an endless forever, Clint’s on the brink of coming; he tugs on Phil’s hair, “Phil-Phil-Phil,” he tries to warn his lover, but Clint is past the ability to use words.

Even so, Phil reads him perfectly, like he always does and he pulls off only long enough to say, “Come for me? I need to taste you.”

Clint’s never been one to come on command but, fuck, he was already _so_ close, Phil’s words are just enough to push him over, that and the way Phil reaches up and presses on Clint’s bonding gland and sucks him deep and hard.

Clint’s breath is punched out of him as he comes in a silent shout, his orgasm shaking his entire body, Phil massaging his gland and continuing to suck Clint’s cock until Clint whimpers, overstimulated, “ _Phil.”_

Phil shows mercy on him, of a sort, licking up the inside one iliac furrow and then the other before nuzzling his belly button; Clint giggles at the ticklish sensation, then flushes in embarrassment at the sound, pulling at Phil’s hair and trying to squirm away.

Phil peppers Clint’s abs with kisses then gives him an alpha’s bite on each hip bone, the hickeys perfectly framed between the four raised lines from where Phil’s canines have left their mark, marks he’ll be leaving on Clint’s neck before the night is through. 

Phil takes Clint’s hands and kisses each palm and finger tip before letting them go to finish pulling off Clint’s pants and underwear. He kisses each of Clint’s ankles then alternates kisses and bites between Clint’s calves and thighs, leaving a particularly spectacular mark high on the inside of Clint’s left thigh. 

He lifts and spreads Clint’s legs and Clint moans as Phil looks up Clint’s body past his cock, already half hard again, his mouth hovering over his omega’s hole and he asks, “May I?”

“I can’t believe you’re ask— yes! Fuck, yes, please!”

Phil buries his head between Clint’s thighs, swiping his tongue across Clint’s hole, loose and wet from his orgasm. Phil moans and laps away all of Clint’s slick before breaching him with his tongue. 

Clint moans himself as Phil continues his gentle assault, and it’s too soon for him to get this hard again and his cock aches with it but it also feels good; he lets out a whimper when Phil sucks at his hole, and then a gasp as he feels his alpha’s canines rake either side of the most sensitive part of him.

Phil lets Clint’s legs down and sits back on his heels, as if it’s natural for an alpha to be on his knees before his omega and Clint’s blown away again over how special Phil is as he asks, “Roll over for me, sweetheart?”

Phil is hard again too, the base of his cock already visibly swelling and this is it, Phil’s finally going to mount him, to take what Clint is giving him, to Bite and bond him and he couldn’t be more ready, eagerly turning over onto his hands and knees; but Phil surprises Clint again, not entering him as he covers Clint’s body, but kissing and biting at his neck, then shoulders, then back, and finally the round plumpness of his ass until Clint is begging, “Please, Phil, _Alpha_ , please, fuck me, _please_?”

Instead of giving in, he spreads Clint’s cheeks and asks, breath warm against Clint’s dripping hole, “If I eat you out until you come will you still be able to come around my knot afterwards, my omega?”

“I don’t— oh God Phil, _please?”_

Clint can smell how much Phil wants to feel Clint come on Phil’s cock, but he can’t resist his omega’s plea and he licks his way back into Clint’s hole, pleasuring Clint with his mouth until Clint’s moans get desperate and then adding two fingers, thrusting as deep as he can, lips and teeth brushing over Clint’s rim where it’s stretched around his fingers and Clint comes with a shout. 

Phil sits back on the bed and says, “I'm going to fuck you now, until you lock around my knot,” adding a third finger and making Clint shiver; no question in his tone now, only fact, “And then I’m going to Bite you.”

“I’m ready, I’m so ready. Been ready for you forever, Phil. Please?”

“Roll back over for me?” Phil asks and Clint looks back over his shoulder in shock.

Clint arches his back and he pushes his ass up and asks, “You don’t want me like this?”

Based on Clint’s admittedly selective knowledge, alphas tie their omegas from behind and he thinks being face to face may be too much, be _too_ intimate. 

“I’ll always want you every way, Clint, but I want to look in your eyes the first time we tie together,” he strokes his hand down Clint’s back. He sounds a little uncertain, “If you don’t want—”

Suddenly Clint can’t think of anything he wants more and he rolls over, opening his arms, “I do, I want you like that.”

Phil’s look of hungry desire floods through Clint and Clint’s hip thrust turns into a full body roll; Clint stretches his arms up and grabs at the scrolled wrought iron headboard, flexing his biceps and triceps, knowing now how every much they turn his alpha on.

Phil groans, “ _Omega,”_ and then his cock is hot and hard and _inside_ Clint. He grabs Clint’s hips and then slides his thumbs up until he’s holding Clint by the ribs and as slow and gentle as he was before he’s now fucking Clint hard and deep and fast.

“Oh, _fuck,_ fuck me Phil, that’s— oh _fuck!”_ He shouts as Phil’s cock rubs up perfectly against his prostate and Clint’s cock valiantly starts to rise again. He wraps his legs around Phil’s waist and begins meeting him thrust for thrust. 

Phil’s stamina is awe inspiring and by the time Clint’s ready to come for a third time they’re both covered in sweet, their skin shining and golden in the candlelight. 

Phil twists them over, his cock never fully leaving Clint’s hole, and he lays back and lets Clint ride him, his hands gripping the bead frame again, caging Phil in his arms as if afraid to let him go. 

Phil strokes his hands up and down Clint’s ribs and says, “That’s it, my omega, ride me— God, you’re so beautiful, Clint.”

“ _Phil_ ,” Clint whimpers and squeezes his ass around Phil’s cock and feels his knot start to swell, Phil’s as close as Clint is and Clint brings his hands down to Phil’s chest as if to pin him down.

“Are you ready for me, Omega?”

“ _Yes!_ Yes, but—,” Clint worries his lip with his teeth even though he never stops the rhythm of his hips, continuing to fuck his alpha.

“But what, sweetheart?” Phil reaches up and cups Clint’s cheek.

Clint kisses Phil’s palm and whispers, “Can you be on top?”

Phil moans, “ _Yes_! Yes, of course yes.”

They tumble around until Phil is braced over Clint, still fucking him and Clint feels like they’ve been fucking forever and he never wants it to stop, right up until his hole begins clenching around Phil’s growing knot, “Oh God, Bite me, Phil, Bite me.”

Phil groans and drags his teeth over Clint’s bonding gland and Clint’s ready, he’s _so_ ready, but he realizes there’s something he wants to say first, “Wait! Wait!”

Phil draws back, though it clearly kills him to do it, “Clint?” He asks, face shadowed with concern.

“I love you, I— before you— I needed to let you know before— I don’t want you to think it’s only the bond.”

“Oh, God, Clint I love you, too,” Phil kisses him until they're breathless with it. 

Phil’s hips slow down until his cock is almost gentle as it slides in and out of Clint, “Why would you think it was only because of the bond?”

“I— won’t I— won’t the bond— I don’t… I’ve never done this before. Won't the bond make me feel tied to you even when we’re apart?”

“Oh, _Clint,”_ Phil says as something dark and primal fills his scent and it already starts to bind with Clint’s and his alpha tells himself it shouldn’t matter whether he’s Clint’s first or his fiftieth but he can’t quite convince his hindbrain of that, “The bond won’t _make_ us feel anything, it will just let us scent what each other feels; you’ll see. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

Clint licks his lips then kisses Phil softly, “I trust you.”

That primal feeling surges, this time tempered with reverence, “ _Clint_ ,” he kisses his omega, trying to pour all of his feelings into the kiss so that Clint will know exactly how he feels even without the Bite. He kisses across Clint’s jaw, his teeth rasping against Clint’s stubble, and then down to his bonding gland, whispering, “I love you,” before Biting down.

The sharp, delicious pain is suddenly overwhelmed by a flood of sensory data as the chemical cocktail floods Clint’s system and envelopes them both in his bonding scent and Phil’s lightly musky scent becomes deep and rich to Clint’s nose and he _knows_ Phil loves him, cherishes him, wants him on a fundamental level like his lungs want air, like his heart wants to beat.

They feel the bond tie them together more intimating than any sex could, Clint’s scent binding with Phil’s and as in tune with Clint’s scent as he had been, he hadn’t been prepared for the way it now _fits_ into Phil like a key into a lock and he pulls back and looks into Clint’s eyes, wanting to tell him again out loud what he knows his scent is telling Clint, that he loves him more than he’s ever loved anyone when Clint’s hole clenches around his knot and he’s _lost_ , his knot swelling as he comes, his mouth falling open in wordless surrender.

Phil fills Clint like he’s never been filled before, not just with his knot, but his scent, his _love_ and Clint watches Phil in wonder as he comes around Phil’s knot, feeling more complete than he ever has in his life.

Phil half collapses on him, barely propped up on his elbows and strokes his cheek, “Feeling okay?” He asks, even though he knows the answer, part of him needs to hear Clint say it. 

“Oh, _Phil,_ so much better than okay. I feel _amazing_. _You_ feel amazing; God, I never thought it could be like this.

“I love you,” Phil says, just because he can, because he wants to; he knows Clint can scent it in him every bit as much as he can scent it on his omega.

They settle into each other, fingers tracing skin as Clint’s hole continues to squeeze Phil’s knot and they both know it won’t be going down anytime soon. 

“You’re going to have to wear long sleeve shirts for a while, Phil says ruefully as his fingers brush over one of his alpha’s bites, then smiles at the scent of satisfaction as it rises from Clint’s skin.

~~~

When Clint shows up at work the next morning he’s wearing low slung jeans and a tight tank top that barely comes down to his belly button and it nearly drives Phil out of his mind but, really, who’s Phil to complain? 


End file.
